What we owe Nigeria’s kidnapped schoolgirls

People
worldwide are calling for action to bring back the kidnapped
schoolgirls in Nigeria. But concern for the girls demands that we think
carefully about the harmful consequences of proposed solutions – especially
those calling for US military intervention.

Share this

Read more!

Get our weekly email

Enter your email address

It is a nightmare that, at least for a
moment, gripped the world’s attention. Hundreds of girls were kidnapped from
their school in Nigeria by the armed fundamentalist group Boko Haram. The group
later released a video of some of the girls, draped in dark colors and seated
on the ground. Their families scoured this footage, searching their daughters’
faces for answers to their questions. Is she hurt? Is she afraid?

The girls’ faces are haunting. Their
families are desperate. The failure of the Nigerian authorities to respond
adequately is infuriating. The justifiable reaction has been a global outcry to
Bring Back Our Girls.

But the safety of the girls and their
communities demands more from us. It demands that we think long and hard about
the consequences of the actions we call for and not merely implore our
governments to “Do Something.” After all, for the US, that “something” has been
to fast-track plans for militarizing its engagement with Africa,
primarily through AFRICOM, the US military command for the continent.

Rather than issuing a blank cheque for
military intervention, we need to stay focused
on the girls and their well-being, now and into the
future. Those are certainly the priorities of the grassroots activists in
Nigeria who have staged waves of protests and sit-ins. When they issued the
call to Bring Back Our Girls, it had a
clear target: their own government, tasked with and failing to protect their
rights.

A woman expresses her frustration at the Nigerian government. Photo: Ayemoba Godswill / DemotixFor that reason, some have condemned as
naïve and damaging the well-intentioned appeals of those outside of Nigeria
demanding action from the US and other foreign powers. Writer Jumoke
Balogun points out, “Your calls for the
United States to get involved in this crisis undermines the democratic process
in Nigeria and co-opts the growing movement against the inept and kleptocratic
Jonathan administration.” Those of us outside of Nigeria
would do well to think beyond retweeting hashtags and
to listen closely to these warnings.

Like all US military ventures, AFRICOM is
a vehicle to secure US economic and
security interests in the region.
The fact that AFRICOM is not a word one hears often in media and policy
discussions is a testament to how embedded
the US military project is, both in Africa and
in our consciousness. It strikes few of us as unsettling that the US and other
military powers operate bases around the world, an enduring footprint of
colonial and unequal power relations.

Drone enthusiasts realize that they are
losing the battle for global public opinion. More and more people are learning
about the devastating impacts of drone strikes on communities that live in fear
of the next random explosion. Often, these realizations come from the inventive tactics of grassroots
activists like those who printed and swathed an
entire Pakistani field in the single image of a child, a stark reminder to a
drone pilot thousands of miles away of the consequences of pushing
that button.

It is no surprise that the US military
would seize upon the abducted Nigerian schoolgirls as a public
relations antidote to manufacture a softer side to
drones. What better face than that of a vulnerable girl
to signal
the benevolent intent of US troops in Africa? In fact, the search for these
girls is not the first time that AFRICOM has put a humanitarian face on
expanding the US military footprint. Across the region, US military delivery of
mosquito nets and prenatal vitamins
softens people’s realization that the US military is there to stay – nice and
close to known oil reserves. As Joeva Rock
writes, “These
projects are more like a Trojan Horse: dressed up as gifts, they establish
points of entry on the continent when and where they may be needed.”

US “humanitarian intervention” has
already benefited Boko Haram. In 2011, a US/NATO attack destroyed the Libyan
state in the name of democracy and human rights. The weapons given to rebels there have since
scattered, ending up in the hands of groups like Boko Haram.
The more that we militarize the response to the girls’ kidnapping, the more we
run the risk of triggering new “unintended consequences,” including more guns
turning up in the wrong hands.

The erosion of civilian responses to catastrophe

We
have become accustomed to seeing the military
encroach on formerly civilian realms of policing, search and rescue operations,
disaster relief, development and more. The militarization of a wide array of
government functions serves to keep
“defense”
budgets flush
even through government spending cuts.

The pivotal shift came hours after the
attacks of 9/11, when the Bush Administration chose to define a crime against humanity as an act
of war to justify invading Iraq and
Afghanistan. A robust rule-of-law response upholding human rights would have
entailed broad international cooperation in conducting an investigation,
arrests, trial and prosecution of the perpetrators. Instead, the US declared
war, setting us all on a course that now makes it hard to imagine what our
world might look like had the US pursued justice instead of endless
war in the wake of the atrocity.

We soon saw disaster militarism come into
its own after Hurricane Katrina, when the military—in
violation of a founding principle of US law—patrolled the streets of New Orleans,
in essence occupying the flooded city. Like the grateful families accepting
mosquito nets from US troops in Niger,
only a few in New Orleans questioned the presence of soldiers on their streets
in the days after the hurricane. In more and more cities across the US, people
are witnessing the dramatic militarization of their police.

And now, when Boko Haram has committed
what is so obviously a criminal act, we struggle to imagine a solution that
does not entail Predator surveillance or US boots on the ground. And the US
military remains a hammer in search of a nail, only too eager to exploit every opportunity
to deepen its hold in the region.

Women are not pawns – they are leaders

Former Minister of Education Obi Ezekwesili as news of the missing girls' whereabouts spreads. Photo: Ayemoba Godswill / DemotixIf an unqualified call to Bring
Back Our Girls opens the door to the
“Trojan horse”
of humanitarian intervention, then what is the solution?

Is it to rely on the Nigerian military to
act? It is, after all, a primary obligation of every government to protect its
citizens. Yet many in Nigeria, including family members of the kidnapped girls,
have faulted their government both for inaction and for repressive tactics that
have only emboldened Boko Haram.

It took the abduction of more than 300
girls in a single night for the world to take notice, but women and girls have
long been targets of Nigeria’s brutal conflict with Boko Haram. And
they are not merely civilians caught in the
cross-fire: violence against women is a key tactic of military cultures the
world over. Nigeria is no exception.

Like Boko Haram
itself, the Nigerian military has waged its battles on the bodies of women and
girls, reportedly raping and kidnapping female family members of suspected Boko
Haram members to attack the group as a whole.

In 2011, a leader in Borno State, where
the girls were abducted, told a
journalist,
“We initially thought the military would employ logical strategies to put an
end to this cycle of violence... [but] the soldiers went from door to door
killing innocent people, they broke into homes stealing property and raping
young women.” Boko Haram leader Abubakr Shekau
promised revenge in a video, warning,
“Since you are now holding our women, just wait and see what will happen to
your own women.”

“Our women” versus “your women” – one
would be hard pressed to find a clearer demonstration of women being reduced to
pawns. That is what Boko Haram has done to these teenagers and what we risk
perpetuating with ill-conceived military solutions. Where is the solution that
brings them back home, without subjecting their communities to more militarism
and violence?

A woman mourns during a rally to pressure the Nigerian government. Photo: Ayemoba Godswill / DemotixUnfortunately, the May 17 international security summit on Nigeria
sought a regional strategy to counter Boko Haram,
without considering these questions. Representatives from Benin, Cameroon,
Chad, France, Niger and Nigeria, the European Union, the United Kingdom and the
United States gathered without so much as consulting those most threatened by
the crisis: namely, the people of northeastern Nigeria. There was neither one woman from Nigeria at the meeting nor any representatives of the affected
communities.

The UK will host a follow-up
summit in June,
and it is crucial that Nigerian women’s
organizations be represented
there. Organizations like the Women’s International
League for Peace and
Freedom have issued a call to ensure that the UK
includes Nigerian women’s civil society organizations.

These women are
the ones who have been most vocal in demanding a peaceful
resolution. They
stand as role models for Nigeria’s girls in their determination to face down
police harassment and government denials
and to galvanize a nationwide movement to demand the
return of the abducted girls.

Bring Back Our Girls is more than the
rallying cry of desperate families. It signals a wider demand throughout
Nigerian society for their government to prioritize girls, their right to
education, and gender equality for all. We should call for actions that advance
those goals.

This article is published under a Creative Commons
Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International licence. If you have any
queries about republishing please
contact us.
Please check individual images for licensing details.